


Not Quite Forgotten

by Phlinting



Series: A Spark of Hope and the Butterfly Effect [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Peter Hale, BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Kanima Jackson Whittemore, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28362645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phlinting/pseuds/Phlinting
Summary: Time travel fixes everything...not!
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Ethan/Jackson Whittemore, Peter Hale/Sheriff Stilinski
Series: A Spark of Hope and the Butterfly Effect [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041633
Comments: 280
Kudos: 585





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here we go with part 3. It starts a few months after Peter and Noah's wedding.

The doorbell was always kind of a surprise. With most of the pack living under the same roof the door was never actually locked and there was pretty much someone home all the time. But with their remote location they rarely got visitors of the unexpected kind.

Peter recognized the scent before he even reached the foyer and considered not answering. But he also knew the druid was Talia's emissary and would probably just come back. May as well get it over with.

"Deaton," Peter said as he opened the door. He smirked and used the same words and tone Deaton always used on him. "How may I help you today?"

"I came to speak to the current Alpha."

"You know Talia doesn't live here anymore."

"I know that Talia is dead," Deaton said, trying to keep his heart rate steady to hide the fact he was lying. He knew nothing of the sort.

"Dead? Since when?" Peter asked, pretending to be shocked but not really putting much effort in it.

"Since you murdered her," Deaton responded, still sounding calm and unflappable.

"What the fuck?" Peter growled, irritated as hell to be accused of murdering his sister. And also grateful the kids were at school and not around to hear his foul language.

"I know you're the alpha, Peter," Deaton said matter-of-factly. "And as the alpha you are accountable for your pack. Part of that accountability is to deal—"

Peter flashed his blue eyes, cutting the druid off mid-word.

"Not the alpha," Peter said through gritted teeth. "Now get off my family's property. Consider yourself unwelcome until Talia returns and invites you back."

That apparently threw the druid's plans sideways.

"But the wards and the—"

"Are not my problem."

"Peter," Deaton said in that mildly condescending tone that Peter had grown immune to thanks to Noah and the way he loved all of Peter, even the parts that Peter had once believed unlovable. Deaton shook his head slowly, like he was disappointed. "Without renewing the wards each year the pack house becomes vulnerable."

"Because it was so well protected last year," Peter said, managing to return the condescension, "when Kate Argent tried to burn it down?"

"Yes," Deaton said in a serene tone. "Imagine how much worse it could have been without my wards protecting it."

It was a little bit disconcerting to hear the man take credit for something that Peter knew happened only because Stiles had sent them back in time to stop it. In the old timeline the place had almost completely burned to the ground and most of the Hale pack had died inside it.

The question now was did Deaton actually believe what he was saying or was he just pretending that his wards had worked? Surely the druid realized the wards had been redone by a person far more powerful than Deaton could ever dream of being. But if he had, would he be standing there on the pack's doorstep claiming otherwise?

And should Peter gloat and tell him or keep his mouth shut and wait for the over-confident moron to dig himself a deeper hole.

Peter sighed. He usually enjoyed watching people make fools of themselves, but this was just really sad.

"I will pass your concerns to my alpha," Peter said, closing the door on Deaton's stupid face.

He was barely back in his office when his tiny alpha interrupted with a telepathic query.

"Do you think it's possible to predict the future?"

"Of course," Peter said. "You've met Lorraine Martin. She predicted her partner's death very accurately. And you already know Lydia screams before people die."

"Yeah, I guess," Stiles said, sounding unusually subdued. "But what about for other stuff, like boring, unimportant stuff?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Peter said, taking a seat at his desk and reaching for the cup of coffee that had gone cold thanks to Deaton's visit. "Do you know someone who is predicting the future?"

"KInda," Stiles said, sounding embarrassed.

"Who?" Peter asked, worried by the way Stiles sounded.

"Me."

"O…kay."

Stiles had never developed that ability in the other timeline but he'd already proven that his spark was far stronger now. Noah and Peter still hadn't been able to figure out if Stiles had always had his spark at a young age—and because he'd had no reason to believe in magic it had lain dormant—or if the time travel spell had sent Stiles's spark back to his younger self instead of his memories.

"Well we know that your spark is powerful and you can do some amazing things. I don't think precognition is beyond the realms of possibility." Peter said, trying to sound reassuring. "Have you seen anything you're concerned about?"

"Nah," Stiles said. "That's the irritating part. It's just stupid stuff. Like the new math teacher—"

"New math teacher?" Peter asked, flashing back to the last time Stiles had told him of a new math teacher at his school.

"Totally not a hunter," Stiles said, obviously understanding Peter's concern. "She's my science teacher, but when the math teacher had a baby she took over the class."

"Okay," Peter said, breathing a little more easily.

"Anyway, the new math teacher is teaching us stuff that I feel like I've already learned but all the other kids are confused."

"Well you are very smart," Peter said casually. "I wouldn't expect the other kids to be able to grasp it as quickly as you."

"Yeah, but I checked with Lydia and she says it's new to her too." Peter sensed Stiles making a shrugging motion. "And she's the one who should have won a Fields medal."

Peter nearly startled at the use of past tense for something that would not happen for many more years and, sadly, had not happened for Lydia in the old timeline. They'd tried to settle back into normal-ish lives after the supernatural had been outed in Beacon Hills and tensions had settled down—and for a while they'd achieved it—but with so many people knowing their secret it had only been a matter of time before the information spread and the persecution had started. The McCall pack had gone on the run in what should have been Stiles's and Lydia's first year in college.

And they'd kept running until Stiles's spell had sent them back in the timeline and given them a chance to change everything. "I don't think we need to worry about that for now. Your dad and I could maybe talk to your teachers about more advanced classes if you like."

"I don't think that would help," Stiles said sadly. "I think I know math better than my teacher. And I'd rather stay with my friends. Jax really needs me."

Peter chuckled softly. Stiles wasn't wrong.

Jackson was headstrong and stubborn and pretty much a mini version of Peter. He'd been so relieved to know he wasn't human and that he wasn't alone in the world—even after they'd explained the kanima part to him—he hadn't even hesitated to request his adoptive parents transfer custody back to Peter. The Whittemores had been shocked at first but it had quickly grown into anger when they'd realized Jackson's new best friend's stepdad was not only Jackson's biological father but was also married to another man.

Yeah, Peter hadn't quite hit the mark when he'd labeled Mr. Whittemore as a homophobe. The guy certainly wasn't the open-minded metrosexual he pretended to be for his audience in the courtroom, but it had been his wife's sudden belief that Jackson was a "bad seed" that had tipped the balance. Peter, and to a certain extent Jackson, had left the door open for a reconciliation in the future, but with Mrs. Whittemore's zealous religious beliefs dominating the Whittemore's thinking it was very unlikely.

Jackson pretended not to care, but Stiles and Peter saw right through him.

It had also complicated things with Ethan.

Despite all of the preparation Peter's lawyers had done prior to finding Ethan, Aiden, and Amelia, formalizing an adoption was a laborious task that took time. Reversing Jackson's adoption had felt almost instant by comparison.

Aiden had felt Jackson was a threat to the safe home he and his brother and sister desperately needed. He'd reacted in the only way he knew worked—with violence—and had ended up on the end of Jackson's paralyzing venom.

Ethan had not been impressed with either of them, and it had meant several months of tension between all the kids. Raising four sons of a very similar age had not been ideal, especially when the school had recommended holding Aiden and Ethan back a year because of everything they'd missed while being abused by their old pack.

Thank heavens for Amelia. She had her two fathers, four brothers, and one teenage alpha wrapped around her little finger, but she was still completely adorable. Even Camden, Isaac, and Halwyn adored the tiny werewolf. It was only a matter of time before she started learning imperiousness from Lydia and ruthlessness from Malia, but for now she was the light of all of their lives.

"Stiles?" Peter prodded their mental connection. "You still there?"

"Yeah," Stiles said telepathically. It felt like the kid was struggling to stay awake. "Just bored. Some days it almost feels like I've lived this life before. Well the school part of life, anyway."

"It'll be over in a few years."

"I can do the math," Stiles said sarcastically, "and it's a few more years than a few."

"If you say so," Peter said, teasing his alpha now. "You're the genius, not me."

Stiles harrumphed and changed the subject.

"Is Amelia having her afternoon nap?"

"Yeah," Peter said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "She'll be awake soon."

"Give her a hug for me? And tell her that we'll finish that story tonight."

"I will," Peter said, affection for his stepson swelling through him. "You're very good with her."

"Thanks. Can I tell you something weird?"

"Of course, Stiles. You can tell me anything, you know that."

"Some days I feel like I'm old enough to be her dad, not her ten-year-old brother. Kind of like Derek and I should be married and have kids of our own by now." He laughed softly, embarrassed. "Weird right?"

"Not weird," Peter said, his heart aching for the man Stiles had been in the old timeline. It seemed pretty obvious that parts of him had come back to the past. He didn't have the burden of memory that Peter and Noah carried, but he still sensed it, still noticed that nothing was quite right. Peter tried to find something comforting to say. "It's okay to imagine the future. It's how we set goals and make plans."

"I guess," Stiles said, sounding unconvinced. "Finally! The bell just rang. Math class is finally fucking over. Thank fuck."

"Don't let your dad hear you say that word out loud," Peter said with a soft chuckle.

"As if he doesn't say it himself." At least Stiles sounded a bit happier.

"Not the point." Peter grinned. "Derek will be there to pick you up in a couple hours."

"Cool. Thanks, Peter. And, hey, um… thanks for listening."

"Any time, Alpha."

~*~

"Hey, Jackson. Wait up."

Jackson rolled his eyes but Stiles gave him that look. "He's your best friend. The least you can do is stop avoiding him."

Jackson gave Stiles a furious glare but the kid barely even noticed. That was irritating as hell but also kind of nice to know his stepbrother wasn't intimidated.

"It's just hard," Jackson admitted. "Not being able to tell him."

"I know," Stiles agreed, "but everybody likes Danny. And pushing him away is hurting both of you."

"Shut it, Stilinski, you're starting to sound like Dr. Phil."

Stiles flailed but his attempt to act offended was only half-hearted. In fact a lot of Stiles's responses seemed slightly off-kilter lately.

"Jackson," Danny said, smiling with relief when Jackson didn't turn away. "Are you doing okay?"

"Sure, whatever," Jackson said, frustration making him even more grouchy than usual. Danny gave Stiles a friendly smile—he was confused by their friendship, but he'd never been rude—and turned his attention back to Jackson.

"I finally got that new graphics card for my computer. Do you want to come over tonight and see how much better it is for gaming?"

"Can't tonight," Jackson said, trying to end the conversation.

"Of course you can," Stiles said, clapping him on the shoulder and pushing him toward Danny. "I'll tell your dad where you are and I'll get my dad to pick you up on his way home from the station."

Danny gave Stiles a grateful look so he maybe missed the way Jackson glared at his stepbrother.

"I have homework," Jackson said through gritted teeth.

Stiles shrugged. "I'll help you when you get home."

Danny snickered, apparently quite happy with the way Stiles had leapt onto his side of the discussion, but Jackson wasn't going to turn down help with his school work. Stiles seemed to know the whole curriculum and then some and he was a better teacher than most of their actual teachers.

"Fine, okay," Jackson said grumpily—no use giving in to their manipulations gracefully. "I'll meet you at the bus bay after school."

"Excellent," Danny said, grinning wider than Jackson could ever remember his best friend doing. "See you there."

"He'll be there," Stiles said like a smart-ass. "I'll make sure of it."

Jackson shoved Stiles into a locker the first chance he got.

His stepbrother just laughed.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The only thing Derek hated about the school run was the need to have a soccer-mom car. When his pack was older he planned to buy himself a much cooler car, something with sleek lines and an engine that purred.

The fantasy was interrupted by the side door sliding open.

Stiles moved into the front passenger seat and Isaac held the door open and let the two girls climb in first.

"Jax has gone to Danny's place for the afternoon," Stiles said as he put his seatbelt on. "Malia's gonna hang out—her dad will pick her up later—and Lydia's mom said she can come study in the Hale library until she's finished grading exams."

"Aiden and Ethan?" Derek questioned, not seeing his betas with the rest of the kids.

"Running late," Lydia said. "They'll be here soon."

"No, they were in the nurse's office," Malia said, frowning when Lydia shook her head and tried to get her to shut up. "There was a problem in gym class."

"What sort of problem?" Derek asked, turning to Stiles in the hope of getting more details. The kids were all around the same age, but Stiles always seemed far more mature. Most of the time.

"Nothing serious," Stiles said with a wave of his hand. "They were horsing around and Aiden broke his arm. The teacher saw the accident and kind of freaked out."

"Was Aiden able to stop it from healing?"

Stiles scratched his neck. "Yeah, he's not very good at that yet so Ethan went with him."

"To help hide it or re-break it if needed," Malia said with an unconcerned shrug.

Derek tried not to laugh. Ethan had been holding onto the anger with his twin since the fight with Jackson. He was probably gleefully breaking Aiden's arm over and over because he had an excuse. Hopefully it would be the thing that helped them both move past it.

"Did the nurse call Peter?"

"Maybe," Lydia said, flicking her braided hair over her shoulder. "It only just happened so you were probably already here."

"Peter is on the phone now," Stiles said, using his telepathy instead of a cellphone like a regular person. He sniggered. "He's playing the anxious parent. 'Oh my, yes, that is concerning.'" He imitated Peter's voice in a strange falsetto that had the girls giggling hysterically. Even Isaac was smiling at Stiles's antics. "'Why, yes, of course. My nephew should be parked out the front. Black nine-seat van. Yes. Yes please, escort Aiden and Ethan to the van and I'll meet my nephew at the clinic.'"

"I guess that means we're about to have a visitor," Derek said, trying to hide his irritation. He hated talking to non-pack people—especially the human variety. He'd learned that lesson very well, thank you.

"Yep, here she comes," Stiles said, pointing at the boys as they walked across the deserted quad toward the pick up area. They were accompanied by a short, middle-aged woman with a rather unfriendly smile.

"Derek Hale?" she asked as if it wasn't obvious. They were the only car left in the area and it was a black van with Aiden's stepbrother sitting in the front seat.

"Yes," Derek said, plastering a fake smile on his face.

"These two are your problem now."

"Yes, ma'am," Derek said, sticking with polite. "Their dad is going to meet us at the clinic."

The woman's smile was as fake as Derek's.

"Good."

She turned and walked away.

Derek waited for everyone to get settled in their seats and then started the vehicle. They were halfway home when he realized his betas were being very quiet. He waited until they were back at the house.

"You two okay?" he asked, trying to make it sound like a casual inquiry rather than over-protective alpha concern.

Aiden nodded but looked away. Ethan shrugged slightly.

"Did something else happen?" Derek asked. "Besides the whole miraculously healing broken arm thing? By the way we will be practicing healing control again this weekend since you two seem to have forgotten."

"Nothing happened," Aiden said in a surly tone, but he still didn't make eye contact with Derek.

"Are we freaks?" Ethan asked, his scent very clearly signaling his upset.

"Who called you that?"

"She didn't know we could hear her," Aiden said. "And if we weren't fucking freaks we wouldn't have been able to."

"Hey," Derek said, moving around the car to scent mark his betas. They both rolled their eyes when he placed at hand at the back of each of their necks, but they leaned into the contact nevertheless. "We're werewolves. We're different. That doesn't make us freaks."

"No it doesn't," Stiles agreed. "The thing where you two can merge to make one giant beta werewolf is _freaky_ , but it doesn't make you freaks."

Everyone stopped moving and looked at Stiles.

"They can do what now?"

~*~

Stiles didn't really give much thought to what he'd just said until he realized everyone was staring at him.

"Is that a twin thing?" Malia asked. "Did you read that in one of your books? And ew… can me and Jackson do that too?" She shivered like that was a really horrible thought. The big drama llama.

"Oh, um…" The truth was he hadn't read it anywhere, but he also knew without a doubt it was absolutely true. "Yeah, it's an identical-twin thing"—Malia breathed a sigh of relief—"but I might have read it in one of the books I borrowed accidentally."

"But that's something we can do?" Aiden asked, sounding very happy about it.

"It is," Stiles confirmed. "Let me do some more research and we'll figure out exactly how to do it. Do not attempt anything until we know more." He had a sudden memory of a scene in an old movie and snorted. "And absolutely no running at each other _Freaky Friday_ style to see if it might work."

"Aw," Isaac said, snickering at the twins. "I would have paid good money to see that."

Ethan wrapped an arm around his neck, playfully—and very carefully since Isaac was still human—wrestling with him. "I think I liked you better when you were all timid and stuff."

Stiles grinned. It was great to see Isaac fitting in so well. Everyday he got a little bit happier, smiled a little more, and interacted with the people around him more confidently.

And one day he was going to make a hell of a werewolf. It was so sad that Boyd and Erica had died before they'd been able to form a real pack.

And what? Where the hell had that thought come from? Boyd? That kid from the park, maybe? But Stiles didn't even know anyone named Erica. How could he remember things that hadn't happened?

~*~

"You really didn't have to come over if you didn't want to," Danny said, watching Jackson pace around the room nervously as if he'd never visited before. Jackson really tried to stop himself—Stiles thought it was maybe the kanima side of him that liked to pace—but it always got worse when he was worried or sad. Of course he always hid those feelings under anger. Anger was easier to understand.

"I wanted to come over," Jackson said, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to find a way to explain without actually _explaining_. "Danny, I want to be here. It's just so much has changed in the past year, you know."

"Like you finding out you're a Hale?" Danny asked.

"That's part of it," Jackson said.

"What's the other part?"

"I don't know, just stuff. You know, things I can't talk about."

Danny's eyes widened and he seemed very worried.

"Stuff you can't talk about? Are you okay? Are you safe? I can call your dad… I mean, your old dad. Your lawyer dad. He'll protect you even if he has to take down the sheriff to do it."

Jackson wanted to snort at his best friend's rant but he was feeling pretty happy to know his friend still cared. The way Jackson had treated him the past few months was pretty bad.

"No, nothing like that. Just, you know, the twin sister thing. And a big house full of people. And two new dads. And the adopted brothers and little sister and stepbrother."

"Yeah, you and Stiles Stilinski ending up as brothers…" Danny giggled. "Didn't see that coming."

"Me neither," Jackson said with a soft laugh. "Could have been worse, I guess. Could have ended up with Scott McCall."

Danny laughed with him, the tension finally flowing away and leaving everything feeling normal again.

"Whatever happened to that kid?" Danny asked. "Did he change schools?"

"Yeah, he and his mom moved somewhere, for something. I don't remember."

"Wanna see my new computer game?"

"Sure," Jackson said

~*~

Dinner took a whole lot of planning with so many people living in the same home, but with most of the pack aged twelve and under getting everyone organized and involved in the preparation was like herding cats. Most days Peter was able to convince himself it was worth the effort.

Today was not one of those days.

They'd be a well-oiled machine one day in the future but it felt a very long time away.

"It's fine," Camden said, already cleaning up the mess that the kids had made _helping_ prepare dinner. "I've got this."

"We didn't invite you to live here as the domestic help," Peter said, grinning when Camden laughed. It was hard to believe this was the same young man who'd been abused for years and then nearly beaten to death by his asshole father. Camden had taken to being a werewolf so naturally.

"Honestly, I don't mind," Camden said. "You're already doing so much for me and Isaac. Cleaning a few dishes is the least I can do."

Peter glanced around the industrial-size kitchen. Not a single surface was free of crumbs or spills or abandoned utensils.

"This is a little more than a few dishes."

Camden shrugged. "Probably less than I would have done in the army."

"You were planning to enlist?"

"Not really," Camden said. "It was probably more of a last option kind of thing. I knew my old man would never pay for college—I'm shit at school, always have been—so enlisting was the option for when he finally kicked me out." He shrugged as if it didn't matter. "I figured with my lack of smarts I'd end up peeling potatoes for the rest of my life anyway. Dad always said I was a useless waste of space. It's kind of hard to go against that when even my teachers agreed."

Peter was wondering how many teachers could die by "animal attack" before his husband noticed. Hell, once he relayed this conversation, the discussion via phone call with the school nurse, and what she'd said about the twins in their hearing range Noah might even let him.

"There are options for learning that don't involve dealing with teachers," Peter said, running scenarios through his mind. Stiles was tutoring all of the other kids, but it would probably be very awkward for an eighteen-year-old to be taught school by a child half his age. Maybe Derek could tutor him. Peter wasn't well known for his patience—he'd find some if that was Camden's preference—but Noah would be the better choice. The pack would certainly be able to help.

"Maybe when Isaac is older," Camden said with a slight shrug. "Right now I'm happy working at the supermarket. The hours fit with Isaac's and thanks to you not letting me pay rent, it's enough money to get us through."

"Okay. When you're ready," Peter said, "just let me know. You and Isaac are pack. We take care of each other."

"Which is why I'm happy taking care of this mess," Camden said with a relaxed smile. "Makes me feel like I'm contributing."

"Okay," Peter agreed, "but when you get tired of cleaning up after my feral kids, just let me know and I'll hire a caterer or army of trained monkeys or bribe some brownies to move in. Money has to be good for something."

Camden laughed and shooed him away.

Peter took one last look around the disaster area that was once a kitchen and left the room feeling way too tired.

~*~

"Derek told me what happened today at the school."

"Yeah," Peter said, moving toward the bathroom to brush his teeth as Noah stripped off his work clothes and headed for the shower. "I think it's a good idea to keep the twins home for a couple days."

"Why both of them? Aiden's the one with a _broken_ arm—"

"Just bruised," Peter interrupted. "X-rays were clear. And Ethan has sympathy pains. That whole identical twin thing."

"X-rays," Noah said, sounding unimpressed. "We are going to have so many problems if anyone ever looks into the Hale family physician."

"Hey, a fictitious doctor has to be a step up from getting patched up at the local vet."

"True."

"Talking vets. He dropped by this morning."

"What did he want?"

"He wanted to speak to the current alpha, accused me of murdering my own sister, and then babbled about how his wards saved us last year and needed updating every year to keep us safe."

"And he didn't notice that Stiles upgraded them before we all moved in?"

"Apparently not."

"Do I need to worry about him?"

"I don't know," Peter admitted. "I can't decide if he's an evil genius or just really bad at his job."

"Wouldn't be the first evil genius dumbass we've met."

"True," Peter mused. "We do seem to attract the crazy ones."

"Yes we do." Noah stepped into the shower, and then apparently had a better idea.

Peter grumbled about wet clothes for point three of a second before he moaned into his mate's kiss and gave up worrying for a few hours.

~*~

"Peter Hale is not the alpha."

"That is not what I expected."

"Me neither, but If Talia was alive she would have made contact by now."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I am integral to her leadership."

"So who is the alpha then?"

"There is only one other Hale left in that house."

"He's sixteen. That should make life a little easier."

"Easier, indeed."

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Noah loved being the sheriff.

And this time around he hoped to be able to thwart the supernatural occurrences that had killed so many of his deputies in the old timeline. Knowing that the kanima had chosen Stiles as his friend and being certain that Gerard Argent was dead was a good start. Stiles had assured Noah and Peter that his connection with Jackson's alternate form was definitely a friendship and not the master-slave relationship the kanima had sought in the old timeline, so that was good also.

In the past few months more and more reports of massacres had reached Noah's desk. But instead of being the disturbing news he would have considered it back in the old timeline, this time around Noah knew some of the victims and found it hard to be upset.

In the old timeline they'd pursued the McCall pack mercilessly.

In this timeline Victoria Argent was horrifyingly efficient in taking out every group of hunters she could find. Peter's response had been to shrug and suggest, "Well, I guess that's what happens when the matriarch who knows all of their secrets becomes La Loba."

It was also nice to remember the shocked look on Gerard Argent's decapitated head.

And yes, Noah may have been spending a little too much time with his husband recently.

He opened the newest folder on his desk—sent courtesy of Agent McCall which meant that asshole probably wanted something—and glanced through the files the feds had collected. Victoria's movements had always seemed erratic and opportunistic, but the latest location made Noah stop and take another look.

This one had left a single survivor. Noah read over the report again. "Survivor" was probably stretching the meaning of the word. The man had been cut in half. He was being kept alive by the miracle of medical science, but his chances of any meaningful recovery were very low. He was liable to succumb to sepsis long before they could figure out a way for him to live without almost all of his intestines.

But he had managed to give the feds a few answers. The attackers name—Victoria Argent—and her motive—she was searching for her daughter.

She was searching for Allison.

Hell.

Noah grabbed his phone and dialed his husband.

~*~

Derek checked his list and double checked the items in his shopping cart.

This was just the stuff they'd either run out of or forgotten to order. They got a delivery every week—enough food for twice as many humans as lived in the pack house—so they alternated between stores so each store believed they were delivering a fortnight's worth of food.

And then every couple of days Derek swung by a grocery store after dropping the kids at school and topped up the pantry.

He was very glad Uncle Peter was handling the finances. Derek was pretty sure he didn't want to know the total of their weekly food bill.

"Hello, Derek."

Derek knew that voice from countless times he'd run into the Hale pack emissary when he'd dropped by the house to speak to his mother. It was kind of ironic to realize that his bi-weekly visits hadn't been necessary. Stiles had created and activated the wards without having to talk to Derek about them endlessly. Derek considered ignoring the man, but his mother's lessons in werewolf-emissary etiquette wouldn't let him be so rude.

"Dr. Deaton," he acknowledged, dipping his head in an _almost_ friendly manner.

"I was hoping we could talk."

"Why?" Derek asked.

"Because an emissary is an alpha's closest adviser."

"You know my mom doesn't live in Beacon Hills anymore," he said, before wondering if Peter had passed that information along or just hoped the rumors reached Deaton via his veterinary work. "You do know that, don't you?"

"I am aware that your mother is dead and that you are the new alpha."

Derek tried not to react, but Deaton saw whatever he wanted to see because he smiled and stepped closer. The touch to Derek's forearm was weird, but instead of pulling away he again found himself following the rules his mother had taught him.

"When you're finished here please come to the clinic. We have much to discuss."

Derek desperately wanted to say "Hell, no!" but what came out of his mouth was a quiet "okay."

~*~

Peter saw the caller ID and answered his phone using his sexiest voice. Judging by how happy he was to get a midday call it was a pretty safe bet he'd been spending too much time at home dealing with children. He loved the kids—even the ones who technically were not his to parent—but he was also in desperate need of adult conversation.

His last serious conversation was with their four-year-old daughter and how best to plan her career path to Space Princess. Yes, adult conversation was required immediately.

"You need to contact Chris. Victoria is tearing through the hunter community looking for Allison. The last massacre was not far from their area."

Yeah, he was going to file that need for adult conversation under _Be careful what you wish for._

"Okay, any other details you can offer?"

"Not much," Noah said, grimly. "The crime scene was pretty much the same as all the others."

"So you're thinking these attacks are more calculated? They're not just the rage and self-control issues that Kate had when she was La Loba?"

Peter could hear Noah flicking through the pages of a file.

"Crime scene reports for all the massacres suggest at least one victim was tortured before being dismembered. The feds' hypothesis was that the perpetrator killed the lackeys quickly and then tortured the leaders. Victoria must think the hunters helped Chris disappear. "

"And when she can't get any information from the hunters she'll head back to the last place she saw Chris and Ally and start questioning the paranormal connections."

"That's my thinking, yeah."

"So what do we do? How do you want to play this?"

"We need to have a pack meeting."

"Adults and our alphas?" Peter asked, already knowing the answer but wanting Noah to confirm that they wouldn't be able to leave Stiles or Derek out of this.

"Yeah," Noah said sadly. "The rest of the kids will need to know what's going on too, but yeah, Stiles and Derek both need to be in on the decision making." He sighed. "I hate that he's dealing with these things when he's only ten."

"I'm not sure he is," Peter admitted. "Ten, I mean."

"You think his memories are returning?"

"Maybe," Peter admitted. "Or maybe only partially. He has the ability to read all of the languages he studied in the old time line and he knows the school curriculum as if he's already lived it. I think parts of him came back. It seems a reasonable side-effect that some of the memories would come back too."

"It's okay," Noah said, perhaps sensing Peter's grief. They'd both been really happy when they'd realized Stiles hadn't come back with them. They'd been hoping he'd have a chance to grow up in a better world without ever knowing the horror of the one he'd helped them escape. "There's nothing we can do to change it, so let's just move forward."

"Yeah," Peter said, steering his thoughts away from _what ifs._ "I'll call Chris to give him the heads up and then I'll call the pack together for an emergency meeting."

"I'll be home the same time as the kids."

"Okay," Peter said, glad that he wasn't left to deal with things like this alone.

~*~

"Derek," Dr. Deaton said, lifting the mountain ash counter and beckoning Derek forward. A part of him was very wary of stepping beyond that threshold, but it apparently had no control over his legs. He walked straight past the line and into the back room. He flinched when he heard the counter close, but again his legs didn't seem to get the message.

He stood by the metal exam table and waited for Dr. Deaton to join him.

~*~

"Chris," Peter said, apparently skipping the pleasantries to get to the important stuff. "Victoria is a werejaguar and currently tearing her way through the hunting families."

"Do we know why?" Chris asked, quickly falling into hunter-mode and suppressing all emotion to focus on the problem first.

"We thought they were random, but the latest attack left a single survivor. He told investigators Victoria is looking for her daughter."

"That doesn't make any sense," Chris said, desperately trying to understand his ex-wife's motivations while simultaneously making a mental list of everything he'd need to do to keep Allison safe. "Victoria and Gerard put Allison in the wendigo's path. Victoria even let Allison see her send the creature toward her. They never intended for her to survive."

As best as Chris could tell they'd been hoping the death of his daughter at the hands of a paranormal would be the catalyst that made Chris drop his strict adherence to the Code.

Instead it had been a young child's ability to heal that had turned his beliefs completely around. He barely knew anything about the kid, only that he ran with wolves, but he had saved his daughter's life and asked for nothing in return.

"She's not working with your dad anymore," Peter said quietly, apparently worried that Chris didn't know his father was dead.

"I know he's dead." He didn't need to explain the sort of connections he had to a werewolf who was the left hand for his pack. "Are you saying Victoria killed him?"

"We believe he was one of her first victims, yes."

"And you're sure Victoria is a werejaguar?"

"Yeah, we're sure," Peter said, again sounding uncertain how much to tell him. "She and Gerard abducted my stepson. Gerard shot through Victoria in an attempt to kill Derek as some sort of message for the Hale alpha. Derek scratched Victoria. Victoria recovered, turned into a werejaguar, and went on a killing rampage. Until twenty minutes ago we thought it was just random attacks on hunter families, not a coordinated search for information."

"That doesn't make sense unless…"

"Unless Derek is the alpha. Yeah."

"So Talia?"

"Your sister and my niece, Laura, killed her. Then Kate killed Laura and I killed your sister."

Chris couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. It was a little bit hysterical, yes, but the situation was hilarious in a totally fucked up way.

"Chris?" Peter said worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm good," Chris said, in between bouts of laughter. "How's that for irony? My _loving_ wife and father were testing my loyalty to the cause because my sister had supposedly run off with her werewolf lover." He chuckled harder. "Gerard was worried if Kate could change sides that I might too."

"I'm hoping that's kind of what happened," Peter said. "I'm trusting you with information that we really don't want others knowing."

"Peter," Chris said, sobering as the reality sank in. "You and your family protected my daughter when my own family was trying to get her killed. I know the words don't mean very much, but I promise that you have my loyalty and my silence."

"Thanks," Peter said, sounding relieved. "Do any of your old contacts know where you are?"

"No one," Chris confirmed.

"What about Melissa McCall?"

"McCall? The nurse that lives down the street? She's one of yours?"

"No," Peter said, scaring the hell out of him until he clarified. "I…have a friend who thought you two would hit it off."

"Enough to send her my way?"

"To be fair, my friend is usually right."

"I've only met Melissa a few times. She seems nice enough, very career driven, but I never noticed any attraction. Even if there was it would be problematic because Allison truly dislikes Scott. Calls him her creepy stalker."

Peter snorted out a soft laugh. "So you didn't know they were from Beacon Hills?"

"Kind of glad I didn't. That might have been the red flag that had us running again."

"Don't do that," Peter said earnestly. "Our current theory is that Victoria is attacking anyone you may have gone to for help. Once she runs out of hunters she'll head back here and start with the paranormal community."

"Shit, I didn't mean to put your pack in danger. That was never my intention when I asked for your help."

"I believe you," Peter said in a tone that almost suggested they were friends. "You said you don't think it's really Allison she's after. Can you think of any other reason?"

"I'm sure she's pissed with me for saving Allison, but to be honest I don't think she'd bother going to all this trouble just to track me down."

"It does seem rather panicked," Peter agreed. "Very little time between attacks. The only other werejaguar I've known had a problem with self-control. But she had that problem long before she was turned. Victoria struck me as a very controlled person."

"She is. To use your words she's a 'cold-hearted bitch.' She's calculating and emotionless and cruel. I can't imagine her with anger issues."

"Me neither," Peter said, sounding like he knew Victoria—or perhaps knew _of_ Victoria—much better than Chris realized. "Have you ever heard the legend of La Loba?"

La Loba? _What the hell?_ "You think Victoria's the bone woman?"

"It's a theory," Peter said in a tone that suggested he knew more than he was telling. "Some of the police reports suggest a stabbing weapon made from sharpened bone."

Chris rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Okay, let's assume for a moment that she is La Loba. Why is she hunting for a child she tried to kill and a husband she doesn't give a shit about?"

"Do you have something that she needs, maybe?"

"No," Chris said, mentally running through a list of assets and joint bank accounts that he'd mostly left untouched. He'd only cleared out the most dangerous items from the family vault, unwilling to leave them forgotten and unprotected while he and Allison sought a new life. "Shit, wait. There's a knife—more of a ceremonial dagger really—that is supposed to steal a werecreature's power." Chris closed his eyes and tried to remember the pages of archaic Latin that had been found with it. "It supposedly transfers the energy to whoever is holding the knife." He huffed out a soft laugh. "I never gave it much credence—magic just always seemed too far past what was actually possible—but after _that_ day I'm kind of a convert."

"The knife does sound like the kind of thing a person drunk on power would want to obtain."

"Yeah," Chris murmured, remembering his ex-wife's ambitions for the Argent clan.

"Sit tight," Peter ordered. "We have a pack meeting in a few hours. I'll discuss possibilities and let you know what we decide."

"Okay," Chris agreed. "I'll wait for your call."

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Jackson was a little surprised to see his dad waiting to collect the pack from school.

"Where's Derek?"

"He texted to say he'd run in to an old friend. He should be home by the time we get there."

"An old friend?" Jackson asked, glancing back at Stiles. His stepbrother had it bad for the alpha and Jackson didn't want to see him get hurt. There was an age difference—and apparently a ten-year-plan—but none of that was going to matter if Derek went off and fell in love with someone else while Stiles was waiting to grow up.

"Just a friend," Peter said, shaking his head slightly. "No one special."

"Okay." Jackson climbed into the vehicle and waited for the rest of his family to arrive. He considered telling Stiles and Peter to stop talking telepathically, but judging by their grim expressions whatever they were discussing was nothing good. "Is movie night still on?"

"Sorry, Jax," Stiles said, giving him a weird sort of not-smile. "Something has come up. Looks like we're having an actual pack meeting instead."

"Can I help?" Jackson asked.

Stiles and Peter seemed to be having a furious argument via telepathy. Whatever it was about Stiles seemed to win.

"We need to discuss options as a pack," Peter said, not actually saying no.

"True," Stiles said. "But we also need _everyone_ on alert so _everyone_ needs to know what is happening."

"I know," Peter said, grinding his teeth hard enough for Jackson to hear three seats away. "I just wish it wasn't necessary."

"Me too," Stiles said, sounding much older than a ten-year-old should.

~*~

Derek reached for his phone when it chimed.

He smiled at the message. Every week Stiles called them together for a "pack meeting" that was mainly just an excuse for Stiles to try and convince them all that the original Star Wars trilogy were the best movies ever. Derek was yet to be convinced—he preferred Star Trek—but his future mate was just so cute when he was talking about something he really enjoyed.

"Problem?" Dr. Deaton asked.

"Pack meeting," Derek said with a shrug.

"I should be included."

Derek was nodding before he really gave it much thought. "For a real pack meeting, yes, I agree. You are the emissary after all, but Friday evening 'pack meetings' are really just the kids getting together for movie night."

Dr. Deaton smiled. Well, he kind of twitched his lips for a moment which seemed to be about as close to a smile that the guy ever got.

"I can sit this one out. Be sure to let me know when the actual pack meetings are."

"Of course," Derek agreed. "You're the Hale pack emissary. Of course you need to be there."

"That's right, Alpha Hale. Thank you for your time today."

"Anytime," Derek agreed, walking toward the exit. "I should get going though. I don't want Stiles to start worrying. The kid used to have anxiety and get panic attacks after his mom died. We all try to make sure not to worry him unnecessarily."

"He sounds like a weak link. He's human? The sheriff's son?"

"Yeah, Noah's son, and he's not a weak link," Derek said, trying to reassure the druid. "He's just a kid."

"Of course," Deaton said, reaching over to touch Derek's arm again. He felt that strange tingle again, but brushed the concern aside.

"I need to get going."

Deaton opened the counter and Derek headed for his car.

~*~

"Daddy!" Amelia yelled when Noah stepped through the front door of their home. He caught the four-year-old as she leapt into his arms.

"Whoa," he said, grinning as he pretended to stagger backward. Unfortunately with her werewolf strength it wouldn't be too long before he actually did. He was not looking forward to the day he had to ask her not to greet him so enthusiastically.

"Papa said you were coming home early."

"Papa was right."

"And everyone else is coming over too."

"Yep."

"Are we having a party?"

"Not quite," Noah said, glancing toward the large meeting area just past the stairs. "But Aiden, Ethan, and Jax, and Lydia, Malia, and Isaac will all be here for a very early movie night."

"Yay!" Amelia said, clapping her hands. She leaned in to whisper in Noah's ear. "Lydia is so smart and so pretty and she plays space princess with me, but Isaac is still my favorite."

"I think Isaac is everyone's favorite," Noah whispered back, tickling Amelia until she giggled breathlessly. "Just remember he doesn't heal the way you and the boys do."

Amelia nodded seriously. "Just like Tiles."

"Yes," Noah agreed, grinning at the shortening of his son's name that none of them had even tried to correct. "Just like Stiles."

Isaac had thrived in a pack environment and thanks to Stiles and the other children in the pack his school work had improved exponentially. It had almost been enough to convince Camden that maybe his own poor grades had been the result of his home environment rather than a lack of smarts. For now both of the Laheys were happy and settled and Noah wanted to keep it that way.

"What's going on?" Derek asked as he also arrived home. "Why is everyone here?"

"Pack meeting," Noah said. "You didn't get the text?"

"I did," Derek said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I thought it was just Stiles reminding me about movie night."

"Unfortunately, no," Noah said. "We have a situation brewing that everyone needs to know about."

"Oh, okay," Derek said, searching through his phone for something. "I need to call Dr. Deaton. He's the emissary. He needs to be here."

"Since when?" Noah asked, completely startled. He twisted around and was glad to see Peter moving toward them.

"Derek?" Peter asked, watching him worriedly. "Dr. Deaton isn't our emissary anymore. We agreed on that."

"No we didn't," Derek said, frowning furiously. "You decided that. I'm the alpha and I decide what is best for my pack."

"You think Deaton is best for the pack?"

"Of course," Derek said in a harsh tone that Noah had never heard him use before. "Deaton is the Hale pack emissary. He always has been. Always will be."

"Derek?" Noah asked, still unsure what the hell was happening. "I don't understa—"

The kid surged forward and roared in his face. "I am the alpha and you will do what I say. My decisions are final."

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Noah had a feeling that if he'd been a supernatural member of the pack that he'd be shrinking away from his alpha right now. Peter stepped between him and Derek, roaring his own response. Unfortunately, all the roaring attracted everyone's attention—Aiden and Ethan included. The twins rushed to Noah's side, instinctively putting themselves between an angry alpha and their sister.

They snarled, apparently also ready to defend Noah as well. Noah took a step back, urging the boys to move back with him. Something very bad was happening and he had no idea why.

Peter stood his ground but he wasn't an alpha and he wouldn't heal from wounds inflicted by one. If he and Derek came to blows, Peter was going to come off second best.

But short of shooting a sixteen-year-old kid he'd come to think of as his own son, Noah had no real way of intervening.

"Der?" Stiles asked, stepping into the room where everyone else stood frozen, waiting for whatever was going to happen. Derek sneered at him but the giant lizard that suddenly appeared beside Stiles had him changing the focus of his anger.

Derek's phone didn't survive the thick tail that stabbed through the glass and Noah couldn't quite hide the relief at knowing Derek was temporarily thwarted from calling Deaton.

"Derek," Stiles called, moving closer, his lizardy shadow close to his side. "Are you okay? You're never this mad."

"Get away from me, kid," Derek ordered, spitting the words through a mouth filled with canine teeth.

"Not a kid," Stiles said with a frown as he pressed his fingers to a set of the "on buttons" for his spark. The tattoos flashed across his skin momentarily before he turned his attention to Derek. "Wow, okay." He stepped closer but Derek took a step back, avoiding Stiles's touch. "Derek, I just need to—"

The alpha roared at him angrily but the sound cut off mid-roar.

"Sorry, Der," Stiles said as Derek crumpled to the ground, paralyzed by the kanima's venom. "Thanks Jax." Stiles nodded at Noah and then signaled for Peter to lift the prone alpha off the ground. "Dining table?"

Peter shrugged. "We really should consider setting up a medical room."

"Yeah, maybe," Stiles said absently, still staring at something on Derek that the rest of them couldn't see. "This won't take long. Maybe someone should go arrest Dr. Deaton."

"Someone meaning me?" Noah asked, frowning hard. He hugged Amelia to him, silently reassuring the little girl in his arms as he tried to understand what the fuck just happened. "Are you going to give me a clue on what law he's broken?"

"He stole Derek's autonomy."

"I'm not sure that's the sort of thing I can prove in court."

"True," Stiles said, pursing his lips in thought. "But I doubt Derek was his first victim."

"He's been drugged?" Noah asked, wondering if there was a way to prove that without endangering Derek or exposing him as a werewolf.

"In a way," Stiles said, sounding and moving the way he did when he was twenty-six and not ten years old. "More like a magical version of a date rape drug. It made him highly suggestible. Dr. Deaton probably spent a couple of hours programming him with the 'I am the alpha' bullshit."

Derek was snarling, his voice a low grumble but his words were incoherent and he was still unable to move his limbs. He'd been angry before but now he was verging on homicidal.

"Can you fix it?" Peter asked, placing Derek in the middle of the table and then moving to join Noah, Aiden, Ethan, and Amelia on the other side of the room.

"Shouldn't be hard," Stiles said, again seeming to study lines no one else could see. "It's a pretty simple spell that strengthens through repetition. Derek's only had three, maybe four doses."

"So if someone was dosed twice a week for several years?" Peter asked.

Stiles gave him a sympathetic nod. "It would make them Dr. Deaton's puppet. If he said 'Steal Peter's children and take the memories he has of them' she would have."

"And if Deaton was trying to create chaos," Noah said, handing Amelia to Aiden before he moved closer to his mate, "he'd place them with clueless humans and wait for the inevitable problems."

Peter was grinding his teeth and holding himself stiffly, but he relaxed slightly when Noah wrapped his arms around him.

"At least we know now why Talia would make such unfathomable decisions," Peter said in a tight voice. "Deaton used our pack hierarchy against us."

"He did," Stiles agreed, "but he was arrogant enough to think Derek ruled the same way."

"I doubt he even considered the idea of two alphas in a pack," Noah agreed. "One of them not even a werewolf."

"He'll die for this," Peter said, lowering his voice so that only Noah could hear him. Either he repeated the words telepathically or Stiles simply knew him well enough to know what he was thinking because the kid gave him a sad smile and shook his head.

"The moment I break this spell he'll know and he'll run."

"So you hold off breaking it until I get there," Peter said in a tone that sounded reasonable enough. Only Stiles and Noah knew he had murder on his mind.

Fortunately Halwyn was also in the room. "I have a spare cell in Eichen," he said, stepping closer to the dining table and giving Derek a soft smile. "We'll handle this, Derek." He signaled for Camden to join him, and then turned to Peter. "Stay here with your family." And then he lowered his voice. "Derek needs your support and reassurance right now more than he needs vengeance."

"Yeah. Okay," Peter agreed in a voice tight with fear and worry. "Thanks, Hal."

The hellhound nodded once and turned back to Stiles.

"We'll call when we're in position."

"Thank you," Stiles said in a very quiet, very sad voice.

~*~

"I can see it too," Lydia said, joining Stiles beside the table.

"I guess that's a banshee thing."

"Or maybe I've just read too many books on magic to be completely ignorant."

"Maybe," Stiles agreed, sounding different to the way he usually did. "What do you see?"

"It's sort of like the beginning of a spider's web. It's wrapped around Derek a few times. A line across his right eye. A line traveling up from under his jaw, across his lips."

"Yeah," Stiles said with a nod. "We got lucky. If Deaton had realized you and I aren't just humans he probably wouldn't have rushed the spell. Derek's belligerence and arrogance would have grown slowly over time. I might not have noticed it with my spark hidden the way it was."

"I would have noticed it," Lydia said, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "I don't like the way you're thinking, Stilinski."

Stiles chuckled, the sound far more adult than the giggle he usually made. "You always could see right through me, Lyds." He frowned and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "But I need to keep the packs safe."

"It's not your responsibility alone," Lydia argued. "We have adult pack members who are all very capable. If you keep your spark activated all the time someone will notice. You'll be a beacon for anyone who wants to hurt our pack."

Stiles chuckled again. "So what you're saying is I'd be putting the pack in danger by outing myself?"

"Exactly," she said, glad to have a friend with the intellect to keep up.

"They're in position," Sheriff Stilinski said, pressing his hand to Stiles's skinny shoulder. The kid looked so breakable, and Lydia pitied anyone silly enough to underestimate him simply because he seemed human.

"Okay," Stiles said, rubbing his hands together as if he was some sort of evil villain. Lydia knew him well enough to know it was a nervous gesture and not as confident as he was trying to project. Honestly boys were so weird some days.

She considered stepping away when Jackson moved closer. His lizard form was not pretty. Not pretty at all. But the kid was also desperate for love and reassurance. His dad—his real dad—had helped a lot, but Jackson liked to be reassured by his friends too. Lydia lifted her arm and encouraged the lizard to snuggle against her.

She was okay with it as long as he didn't drip venom on her brand new shoes.

Stiles carefully lifted the spidery, web-like strands between finger and thumb, gently loosening them a few inches before twisting sharply and snapping them away. They dissolved into the air, but Stiles urged everyone a step back calling for them not to breathe any in.

"What would happen if we breathed it in?"

Stiles grinned and shrugged. "It tastes really bad."

And yes, Lydia knew the boy wasn't telling them everything but she didn't call him on it. This time.

~*~

Halwyn kept the syringe full of kanima venom hidden in his hand, ready to use the moment he was close enough to Deaton.

But it was a woman who walked out from the back room when he rang the bell.

"Where's Dr. Deaton?" Halwyn asked, trying to sound friendly even though he was kind of freaking out. Camden had assured him there was only one human heartbeat in the building and they'd just assumed it was Deaton's.

"He was called away on a family emergency," the woman said in a friendly voice. "Are you here to pick up your pet?"

"Ah, no," Halwyn mumbled, wondering how to explain his presence to a person who wasn't Deaton. "I just dropped by to say hello."

The woman nodded. "I'm sorry you missed him. He should be back in a couple of days. I can leave a message for him if you'd like."

"Thanks, but no. That won't be necessary."

~*~

"Derek?" Stiles asked the moment the spell was broken.

Choked by his emotions, Derek grabbed the kid and held on tight, promising himself he'd only give into the weakness for a moment. Stiles didn't need to know they were mates. Not now. Not yet. But Derek desperately needed to know he wasn't alone.

"You're okay, Der," Stiles said, reaching up to place his hand at the back of Derek's neck. It was such an alpha thing to do. Derek relaxed into the touch, grateful for the comfort.

"Deaton?"

"Yep," Stiles whispered. "Fucking Deaton. I knew he was a creepy prick."

"Stiles?" Derek asked, wondering if he'd perhaps woken in an alternate reality. He didn't remember his ten-year-old future mate speaking with such mature words. Then again, Stiles had never really been like the other kids in their packs. He was Uncle Peter's alpha at age nine—before Derek even realized Uncle Peter knew the kid and his dad. And he'd befriended his stepbrother as if turning into a kanima was something to be celebrated.

"Jackson?"

"He's here," Stiles said. "He's okay."

"Sorry, Jax," Derek mumbled, struggling with the words. "Thanks for stopping me from doing something really stupid."

"Being under someone else's influence doesn't make you stupid, Derek," Jackson said, brushing off the apology.

Stiles laughed softly. "The guy has a point. You can't blame yourself for any of that, Der."

"I should have been stronger," he said, not willing to let himself off the hook for such a mistake. He'd put his whole pack at risk just because he'd gone against his instincts and been polite to a man Peter had warned him not to trust.

"Was your mom a strong alpha?" Jackson asked aggressively and apparently out of the blue.

"Of course she was," Derek said, sneering at the kid who would insult his mom by thinking otherwise.

"Then stop blaming yourself, Derek. You weren't Deaton's first victim."

That startled him. "Mom?" he asked Peter, his voice breaking on the tiny word that meant so much.

"We believe so," Peter said, moving closer. "It explains so much."

"I guess it does," Derek said, rubbing a hand over his eyes in an attempt to act like a strong alpha and not cry like a little kid. "I don't think I've ever been happier to not be the only alpha in this house."

"It certainly helped," Peter agreed, giving Stiles a warm smile.

"So did the paralyzing venom of a kanima," Stiles said, reaching over to fist bump Jackson.

Derek laughed softly, but was interrupted by the steady gaze of a miniature banshee.

"Okay, Stilinski," Lydia said in her no-nonsense tone. "Time to put the spark away. If I can sense you, it's only a matter of time before someone else does too."

Stiles nodded but seemed reluctant to leave Derek's embrace. "Wait for me, okay?"

"Always," Derek responded before he could really fathom the meaning of his mate's words. Surely he hadn't meant that the way Derek had hoped. Stiles was just a kid and he didn't need to be thinking about things like mates for a very long time yet.

But when Stiles slid his fingers onto the "off" buttons and his tattoos flashed momentarily there was a change that Derek might have missed if he hadn't been so close.

"Oh, Peter," Stiles said, sounding like an excitable ten-year-old again. "I forgot to tell you. There's a kid in my class who just had a heart transplant and the teacher wants us all to make a card for him, so I need to go to the stationery store on the way home from school tomorrow."

"Okay," Peter said, giving Noah a startled look.

"What's his name?" Noah asked.

"Theo Rokin or Raven or Raeken or something," Stiles said, climbing off the table and moving toward the younger kids just through the doorway. "So, movie night? I vote Star Wars."

The others groaned in dismay, but Lydia caught Derek's eye, gave him an expression he couldn't quite fathom, and then flipped her hair over her shoulder and followed Stiles out the door. Jackson smirked on his way past just because he was an asshole.

Yeah, that kid was definitely Peter's progeny.

~*~

Noah watched the exchange and finally realized what Lydia had noticed first.

"The more Stiles uses his spark," he whispered to Peter, "the more he remembers."

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "Let's hope we can limit how much he needs to use it. At least until his body catches up."

Noah nodded.

"Can we leave Stiles out of the pack meeting?" Derek asked. "Just for now?"

Noah was pretty sure Derek hadn't heard what he'd said but it seemed Derek had realized as well that something wasn't quite right with Stiles.

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "He's just a kid. He deserves a chance to grow up before he has to deal with La Loba and other paranormal bullshit."

"La Loba?" Lorraine Martin asked. "The bone woman?"

"Yeah," Peter said, herding everyone toward the soundproofed room they used for pack meetings they didn't want the kids to overhear. He grinned when his phone rang, but just like everything else in such a fucked up day, Halwyn did not give him the news he wanted to hear.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

"Ally?"

"Dad," she whispered almost too quietly to hear. "She's here. She's at the school."

"Stop talking," he said urgently. "She has really good hearing. Tap your nail against the speaker once for yes. Twice for no. Do you understand?"

She tapped once.

"Okay," he said, trying to think clearly enough to get his daughter to safety. "Are you still at school?"

One tap. Yes.

"Do you have a path out? Can you leave without going past her?"

Two taps. No.

"Are you with anyone else?"

One tap. Yes.

"Teacher?"

Two taps. No.

"Classmates?"

One tap. Yes.

"How many?"

Six taps.

Shit.

"Honey, she won't hurt you. She's after something I have. She plans to use you as a bargaining chip, but if you stay with your friends she will hurt them. You need to get as far away from other people as possible. "

Two taps. No.

"I know you're scared," Chris said, barely holding himself together at the thought of his ex-wife, the fucking werejaguar, getting anywhere near his daughter. "But you need to do this. To protect your friends you need to do this."

One tap. Yes.

He could almost imagine the way she'd rolled her eyes and said "Fine" in her head and told herself to be brave.

"I'm almost at the school. I'll be there in less than two minutes. Move away from your friends. And find somewhere to hide."

One tap, and then the sound of a child running.

"Too late," Allison said, breathlessly. "I'm coming to you."

"Where are you?" Chris called frantically, flooring the accelerator and blaring his horn at any car stupid enough to get in his way.

"Front door… Main road," Allison yelled, then screamed at something Chris had no way of identifying. "I'm running down the middle of the main road. Dad, I'm…"

The loud clatter scared the hell out of him.

"Ally?" Chris swung the wheel hard, screeching the tires as he rounded the corner. "Ally?" he called even though he knew the signal was gone, her phone likely destroyed.

The traffic was stopped.

Chris slammed on the brakes and leapt from the car almost before it finished skidding.

~*~

The movie was good, but they'd watched it at least a dozen times.

"I was thinking," Lydia whispered, watching Stiles closely to gauge his reaction, "that if we doubled our school load for the next five years we could start college by the time we're fifteen."

"You want to go to college at fifteen?" Stiles asked, sounding curious.

Lydia shrugged. "Why not? We're both smart enough. And middle school is just going to be three years of boring."

"True," Stiles said with a soft laugh. "But I doubt our parents will let us."

"I have a plan for that," Lydia said, leaning closer.

~*~

Allison was scared out of her mind. The last time she'd seen her mother the woman had deliberately sent a killer in her direction, and no matter what her dad tried to tell her, she knew she was wounded way more than the scar on her stomach suggested.

Whatever happened that day wasn't normal.

And whatever was happening now was a whole new level of messed up.

Not only had her mom been sniffing the air like some sort of bloodhound, she'd also tracked Allison down using the sound of her dad's voice over the phone. That was some high level bullshit.

How the hell could she hear _that_ well?

Running down the middle of the highway was insane, but it should have meant her mom had to dodge as many cars as Allison had to. Yet somehow her mother had jumped high enough and far enough to not only leap over the moving cars but to also catch up when Allison had been running faster than she'd ever run before. And she'd had a head start.

The only good thing to happen was the cars all stopped and Allison somehow didn't get run over.

Although that might have been less painful than having her mom land on her back and flatten her to the ground.

"Ally, baby," she said, almost purring the words. "Where's your dad?"

Allison stayed quiet, partially because she didn't owe this bitch any information and partially because she was heavy and nearly crushing her ribcage.

"Victoria," her dad called, running toward them. "Vicky, let Allison go and we'll work this out."

"I want the knife," she said, dragging Allison up off the ground and apparently using her as a human shield. Yeah, mother of the year, right there.

"I know," Dad said, moving closer. "I have it with me."

"No tricks," her mother ordered, her hand closing around Allison throat. Damn her fingernails were sharp.

"No tricks," Dad agreed, his voice tight with stress. "It's in my breast pocket." He very slowly pulled a wooden box from the inside of his jacket and held it up for them to see.

"Put it on the ground," the bitch ordered. Dad did exactly as he was told and then slowly began to back away.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," Mom said in a smug tone. She moved toward the box, pushing Allison in front of her. When they reached the box she pushed Allison forward. "Open it."

Allison's hands were shaking so hard, but she did what she was told. Inside the box was a knife, barely big enough to even be called that, but it looked very old and was probably very expensive. Yeah, it was nice to know that her mother was willing to kill her over money. Fabulous.

Finally anger started to overtake the fear she was feeling.

What the hell was her mother's problem? She didn't seem insane. She didn't sound sick. And on the day she'd tried to get Allison killed she'd seemed the same she'd always been.

Had this woman ever loved her?

Before she really thought about it, Ally grabbed the knife from the box, and swung it wildly behind her. She might have hit something because her mother growled in pain and let Allison go. She didn't waste a moment regretting it.

She ran toward her dad and she didn't look back.

~*~

Peter's phone rang just as the pack meeting was wrapping up. When he saw it was Chris calling he answered quickly. Chris would never show weakness by calling first when he knew Peter planned to call him back. Something was definitely wrong.

He put the call on speaker so that the humans in the room could hear as well.

"We have a problem," Chris said without preamble. "Victoria found us."

"How?" Peter asked. "I thought no one knew where you were."

"Only you," Chris said tiredly. "And no, I'm not accusing you of anything. I don't know how she found us, but I know that it wasn't you."

"Okay," Peter said, relieved to know Chris trusted him but worried nevertheless. The only favor he'd called in was the one to get Melissa McCall transferred and he'd never given a reason or linked it back to Chris at all. "Are you safe now?"

"Not exactly. We're at the police station giving statements," Chris said, lowering his voice. "Victoria is under arrest."

That didn't sound good. If Victoria had let herself be arrested she had a plan in mind. The werejaguar was more than able to tear through a room full of hunters. A handful of police officers wouldn't even be a challenge.

"Ally stabbed Victoria with the knife."

" _The_ knife? The one we discussed?"

"Yeah," Chris said, sounding really tired.

"So Ally's—"

"Yeah."

He'd explained the knife's supposed function during their pack meeting. If it worked according to the documents found with it suggested then it meant Allison was going to have a difficult time of it over the next few years. Peter glanced around at the senior members of the pack and was glad to see them all nod in agreement before he even asked the question.

He smiled and nodded in relief.

"We have room for you two here. You're welcome to stay as long as you want." Chris's sigh of relief was nearly heartbreaking. "Do you need someone to come pick you up?"

"Yeah," he said. "I think it would be safest if we had an escort."

"Okay," Peter said, feeling so very grateful for the pack they'd gathered around them as every one of them offered to help. "We'll sort out details and call once we're on the road."

"Thanks, Peter," Chris said, his voice cracking with his exhaustion. "I really appreciate the pack's help."

~*~

"Ally," Stiles said, moving to hug Allison as if they were old friends. "Welcome home."

"Ah… thank you?"

Stiles just laughed and reached for her hand. "Let me introduce you to the pack."

He walked her over to two boys who seemed slightly older. One of them was holding a little girl who couldn't have been more than four or five.

"This is Aiden, Ethan, and Amelia. They're werewolves."

Amelia gave Ally a really happy smile. "Finally, another girl. Do you know how to play Space Princess?"

Ally gave the little girl a happy grin and nodded slowly. "I'm not sure of all the rules, so maybe you can teach me?"

"Yes!" Amelia said with such enthusiasm that even her brothers laughed.

Stiles high-fived Amelia on the way past and moved Allison toward a girl and boy who didn't seem to like each other very much. "This is Malia, she's a werecoyote, and her twin brother, Jax. He's a werewolf but also has the ability to turn into a kanima."

"A what?" Allison asked, biting her lips together when she realized that probably came out sounding rude.

"A kanima," Stiles said with a wide grin. "It's like this giant lizard shape with a wicked tail and paralyzing venom. Seriously, it's so cool."

"Of course it is," Jackson said. "It's me."

The group of kids laughed, apparently very used to Jackson's attitude.

"And this is Lydia. She's a banshee and my platonic soulmate."

"That's a thing?" Alison asked. She'd learned so much from Peter and Halwyn on the trip back to Beacon Hills, but she knew she had a whole lot more to learn.

"The banshee part is real," Lydia said, smiling at Allison. "I'm not so sure on the soulmates thing. We're definitely platonic though." She leaned in closer as if she was sharing a secret. Allison knew enough about werecreatures to know everyone in the room could hear Lydia clearly. "Stiles has a ten-year plan to woo the man he loves."

Stiles shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a planner. I plan. I get things done."

He turned Allison slightly so that she was standing in front of a cute guy with curly hair and a shy smile. "And this is Isaac. He's human right now, but he wants to be a werewolf and once we convince Derek that Isaac isn't going to die from the bite I'll be the only human left in our group."

Everyone laughed at Stiles's words.

Allison joined in, not really understanding why they were laughing, but not wanting to be rude or left out. But then it hit her. She recognized that voice.

"You saved me. That day in the park with the…"

Stiles blushed. "Yeah, when the wendigo attacked you."

"You saved my life," Allison said, leaning in to hug Stiles the way he'd hugged her earlier. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," Stiles said, blushing slightly. "Okay, movie time. Who wants to watch Star Wars."

Everyone else groaned—except Amelia who cheered. Maybe they'd watched it before.

"I'd like that," Allison said, willing to watch whatever made Stiles happy. "Thank you for letting me and my dad join the pack."

Stiles grinned. "It was never a question," he assured her. "You're family."

~*~

Derek watched the younger pack members from a distance, unwilling to be involved. Noah moved to stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

"You okay, kid?" Noah asked, glancing in his direction only briefly.

Derek wanted to bristle and deny being a kid, but since that thing with Deaton he felt less of an alpha than he ever had. He was actually glad his dad and the rest of the old Hale pack hadn't been around to witness him being rescued again by an eleven-year-old spark.

He understood that it wasn't his fault, that both he and his mother had fallen for Deaton's manipulations and cruelty, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. After everything that had happened with Kate, Derek had sworn he'd never trust anyone outside the pack again, and yet the first time he'd been tested on that resolve, he'd failed.

"I think Lydia's plan for her and Stiles to go to college when they're fifteen is probably worth considering," he said, instead of answering Noah's question. Derek wasn't okay, but talking about it wasn't going to change anything right now.

"So does Natalie." Noah gave him a shrug before turning back to watch the kids talk. "She's even offered to go with them so they don't end up in the dorms."

"I think it would be good for him," Derek said, breathing a little easier when Noah nodded in agreement.

"And for you," Noah said, apparently understanding Derek better than he realized. "I know it's hard for you knowing that he's your mate and there being such a large gap in age. It'll only get worse when he reaches puberty."

"I don't want him so far away from me," Derek admitted, "yet having him so close some days feels like torture." He shrugged and rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. "But I also want more for him than what Beacon Hills can offer."

Noah was quiet for a while as if he was thinking things over. Or perhaps there wasn't much else to say, but then he turned to Derek and hugged him hard. Derek hugged him back, so damn grateful for the physical affection that he could feel his cheeks heating with embarrassment.

"Fate got it right when she paired the two of you," he said in a gruff voice. "It's an honor to be part of your pack, Alpha."

Derek whispered, "Thank you," and just hugged the man a little harder.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

"Okay," Stiles said, pretending that he'd found the instructions in an old text Peter had already had in the library. "To merge you kind of step into each other. Aiden, place your hand on Ethan's spine and imagine it kind of sinking into your brother."

Ethan gave him a worried look. "That sounds kind of painful."

"It's not," Stiles assured him. "At least I don't think it was… _is_."

"Shouldn't we take our clothes off first?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure," Isaac asked. "What happens to the material of their clothes?"

"It sort of merges into clothes their joined form is wearing."

"Seriously?" Jackson asked, pacing back and forth the way he did when he was worried for someone close to him. He may not have realized that Ethan was his mate, but he already cared deeply for him. "That doesn't even make sense."

"It's magic," Stiles said with a shrug. "It doesn't need to make sense."

"But what if I sink my hand into Ethan's spine and get stuck there? How are we going to explain that to the school?"

"We won't," Ethan growled. "Stiles will cut your damn arm off if it comes to that. I am not spending the rest of my life with you attached to my back."

"I'm not cutting anyone's hand off."

"I will," Jackson sneered, pacing harder. "And if you're nice I might even paralyze you so it doesn't hurt."

"No one is losing a hand," Stiles said, rubbing his eyes like he was an adult dealing with a bunch of children. It was weird how much older he felt some days. "If you get stuck, I will fix it. Okay?"

"No need," Jackson said, sneering at Aiden. "I'm happy to help."

Ethan was wearing his disappointed face again. He hated it when his adopted brother and twin chose to fight.

"That's not helping, Jax," Stiles said.

Allison moved closer to stop the kid from pacing. "Take a deep breath and focus on what our friends need from us right now."

Stiles was waiting for the explosion—Jackson didn't let anyone close if he could help it—but it never came. Jackson gave Alison a weird look but nodded and looked at Ethan again.

"I won't, okay. I'm just…" He glanced around the room, perhaps noticing that the only people inside it were the younger members of the Stilinski-Hale pack. "I just don't want you getting hurt. Either of you."

"We won't," Ethan said, giving his mate a sweet smile.

"We'll be careful," Aiden added, making Ethan's smile stretch wider.

"Okay," Stiles said, hoping that now was the perfect time to get things done. "Let's do this."

They managed it on the very first try.

Separating was a whole other matter.

~*~

"Dad, have you got a minute?" Allison asked the next morning, finally tired of the weird dreams and even weirder need to "go south."

"Always," Dad said, smiling the smile he saved only for her.

"Everyone has been really nice teaching me how to control my new jaguar side." And wasn't that a hell of a trip? She'd become a werejaguar even before she'd realized the supernatural wasn't just myth and legend and scary TV shows. "But I'm having some strange…um dreams and I kind of didn't want to say anything to the others because…"

"Because?" Dad asked when Allison hesitated.

"Because I don't know if they're related to me being a werejaguar or if they're just me being…like all weird and stuff."

Dad smiled. "Weird is my specialty."

Allison faked a smile at that. Possibly the only thing worse than learning she was a werejaguar—thanks to a kooky knife and her own willingness to stab her insane mother—was that her mom and dad had known about the supernatural all along.

And was it weird to be happy her mom had killed her creepy grandpa?

Also Isaac was really cute and she might like him. Like _like-like_ him.

"What are you dreaming about, Ally?"

"It's weird because it's stuff I feel like I should be scared of but I'm not."

"That could just be your mind accepting that as a werejaguar you're much stronger than you used to be. If a wendigo attacked you today you wouldn't need anyone's help in fighting it off."

"Yeah, okay, that does make me feel a little better." Hopefully once the weird dreams went away she wouldn't suffer the same nightmares she'd had for months after she was attacked in the park. The wendigo had been ugly enough without the dream version alternately wearing her mother's and grandpa's faces.

"Is it the same dream?" Dad asked. "Is it something specific?"

"Kinda," she answered, mumbling the words a little. "I have this urge to go south, like all the time, not just when I'm asleep. It's like someone or something is calling to me to come find them."

"Can you describe anything from the dream? Places, buildings?"

"Sand and old buildings, but mostly sand and…maybe bones? Skulls and stuff."

"And you're not frightened when you dream of them?"

"No," Allison said, "that's the weirdest part. It kind of feels like home."

Dad rubbed his head and gave Allison a sad smile.

"It kind of is," he said with a too-casual shrug. "There is a temple called La Iglesia in Mexico. Legend tells of a group of warriors waiting for La Loba to return."

"And I'm La Loba?" Alison asked, not really wanting to believe her dad but secretly acknowledging that the details fit.

"Probably," Dad said with another one of those too-casual shrugs. "Your mother would have felt the same pull, but I suspect she was too busy dealing with her own agenda to worry about dreams and feelings."

"Is she really going to get the death penalty?"

"Probably," Dad said, watching Allison closely for her reaction.

She shrugged because all she really wanted was to know that her mother couldn't hurt her again.

"What happened to the knife?"

"It's safe. It's back in one of the Argent vaults."

Allison raised an eyebrow. She didn't really know how the criminal justice system worked, but she was pretty sure the knife was evidence in a crime. She'd watched enough TV shows to know that.

She went to ask another question but Dad cut her off. "Probably the less you know about that, the better."

Yeah, okay. She was going to take her dad's word for that.

"So these dreams?" Allison asked, getting back to the subject. "Do I need to be worried about them?"

"Worried? Probably not," Dad said, seeming more relaxed now than before. "The compulsion to go south will likely grow stronger over time, but we can probably ignore it for a little while. I'd rather us be here with the pack so that you can learn all about your werejaguar side."

"Me too," Allison said, relieved to realize the Stilinski-Hale pack really did feel like home.

"But if you find yourself heading south call me immediately."

"You think that will happen?"

"Maybe," Dad said honestly. "Just know that if that urge becomes a compulsion I will drive you to La Iglesia. You don't need to walk or hitch hike or try to avoid me or the pack. We'll help. Okay?"

"Okay," Allison said, moving closer to give her dad a hug. She was nearly twelve so she was probably too old to climb onto his lap for a proper hug so she sat beside him and wriggled under his arm when he beckoned her closer. "Thanks for helping me, Dad."

"Every time," Dad promised.

~*~

Ethan was getting a little worried that his brother liked being their giant self a little too much.

They'd been stuck—at least that's what the others believed—for nearly a whole day, but it wasn't as simple as it seemed. It took the will of both of them to merge into this creature and both of them to let it go. Aiden was reluctant to let go.

"Stiles knows what you're doing," Ethan warned his brother silently in their shared mind.

"No he doesn't," Aiden said, still doing whatever the hell he was doing rummaging around in Ethan's memories.

"Yes, he does," Ethan disagreed. "He said you have twenty-four hours and then he's going to use his spark to intervene. He also warned us that if he used his spark to separate us that we might never be able to join again."

"Whatever," Aiden said, still sifting through Ethan's memories.

"If you tell me what you're looking for," Ethan finally offered, "I might be able to point you to the right memory."

Aiden huffed—which was way weird when it was kind of inside their minds—and finally conceded. "I'm looking for that time the alpha locked you in the basement overnight."

"You already know what happened," Ethan said quietly. "Pretty much the same that happened to you three nights later."

"How could he do that to us?" Aiden asked, his voice broken. "We were just kids."

"Still are," Ethan reminded him. They were only thirteen and they had a whole lot more years to grow before they were considered adults. "And I don't know why he did any of what he did, to us or the other members of the pack."

"I'm so glad he never got to Amelia."

"Yeah," Ethan agreed. "Stuff like that probably would have killed her."

"I'm glad they're dead."

"Me, too. I'm just glad we weren't the ones who killed them."

"I would have… if they'd hurt Amelia."

"I would have helped."

~*~

Stiles was relieved to see Aiden and Ethan had reverted to their individual forms by morning. He'd been pretty certain it was an emotional identical-twin thing keeping them locked in their larger form, but he'd activated his spark just to be sure.

The problem was that every time he activated his spark these days more and more weird memories of things that hadn't yet happened leaked through. Some of them didn't even make any sense.

It was possible some of them were just his imagination—like the one where he held Derek afloat in a pool for several hours while Jackson in kanima form paced around the pool waiting to kill them the moment they got close enough to the edge. Stiles was pretty sure that was just his imagination adding fake heroic moments to his ten-year plan, but other stuff like Scott McCall being his only friend and then being bitten by an insane alpha who turned out to be Peter was just ridiculous. The kid didn't even live in Beacon Hills anymore and Peter had not been horrifically burned in the fire that nearly killed his family.

It didn't make sense and it was starting to get annoying.

Was this the sort of thing that had happened to his mother when frontotemporal dementia had stolen her life?

The instant "No" was kind of disconcerting but he wanted it to be true, and come on, he was eleven. He was allowed to believe in bullshit like fairytales and imaginary friends and Santa Claus. Okay, maybe he was a bit old to believe in Santa but it was a tradition for kids to pretend to believe longer so they could get better gifts. Every kid knew that once the magic was gone parents stopped trying so hard to make Christmas great. Magic! Hah, most humans didn't have a clue what real magic was and how magical the world could really be and maybe he should consider choosing that as his thesis in college. Assuming of course that Lydia's plan to get them there three years early was something they could convince their parents to let them do. Education was important even when kids knew Santa was no longer real… Hey, the orange juice was really orange today and the…

Stiles snorted at his own ADHD thought processes and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Jackson secretly enjoyed shopping but there was no reason to admit that to Lydia. She'd convinced the pack they needed to have a big party to celebrate Derek's seventeenth birthday, and then in her usual bossy manner had set about giving them all tasks to complete.

Even Derek knew when to accept defeat and bow to the girl's brilliance. When Lydia planned a party everything went smoothly. Or else.

They were all sufficiently scared of the banshee not to want to learn what the "or else" might be.

Stiles and Jackson had been tasked with finding the best, most perfect decorations ever.

Yeah, that might have been a little daunting if Lydia hadn't researched everything, ordered online exactly what she wanted, printed the dockets, and sent them to the store. She'd even provided them with a driver. Thank you, Halwyn.

Now all they had to do was collect the order, check the details—yeah, they weren't taking home the wrong stuff, like ever—and their job was done. Simple. Easy. Totally under control.

Until…

Yeah that was a scream for help and yeah Stiles was totally running toward the scream because that's what heroic morons did. Jackson rolled his eyes, signaled for Halwyn to follow, and then ran after his stupidly brave stepbrother.

~*~

"Erica," Stiles said breathlessly when he finally pushed his way through the crowd. He dropped to his knees and reached for her hand.

"We need a doctor. Call an ambulance," a woman was screaming to all the people gawking at Erica as she lay on the floor of the mall, seizing so hard that her head kept hitting the hard floor. Halwyn handed Stiles his coat and he folded it to put under her head and then Halwyn turned to ask the hysterical woman—Erica's mom, probably—if her daughter had been diagnosed as epileptic.

For some reason the negative answer surprised him.

Stiles lifted his shoulders, trying to shrink into his coat just a little to hide the flash of tattoos and then activated his spark. No one made a startled noise so Stiles figured they'd all been too busy gawping at the helpless girl to notice the boy holding her hand.

He sent his spark into her mind, checking for damage and finding only what was happening at that moment. Maybe this really was Erica's first seizure. Stiles wasn't even sure he knew who this girl was, but somehow he was certain that she'd once become a werewolf to cure her epilepsy and had instead died at the hands of Deucalion.

Another one of those ridiculous "memories" in Stiles's brain, perhaps, but the girl herself was very real and her epilepsy was just beginning. As her seizure continued he moved his spark to protect her brain from damage as he searched the rest of her body for problems. He found none. Whatever had caused her first seizure hadn't been the problem. Maybe the damage from the first one had been the beginning of an accumulative problem.

Stiles remembered back to the way he'd healed Scott's asthma a couple years ago and concentrated on healing the little bit of damage already done. Erica stopped seizing and opened her eyes a few moments later.

"Hey, Batman," she whispered in a hoarse voice.

"Hello, Catwoman," he said, the line easily tripping off his tongue as if they'd exchanged these words a dozen times. "Feeling better?"

"Why am I on the floor?" She lifted her head and glanced over to where her mother seemed to have curled into Halwyn's reluctant embrace. Erica rolled her eyes. "Did my mom really just use a medical incident to pick up a guy?"

Stiles bit his lips as Jackson laughed softly.

"Maybe," Stiles admitted. It sure looked that way. "But she's going to be very disappointed. Hal's gay."

"Since when?" Jackson asked.

"Since he met Camden."

Jackson seemed poleaxed and then just kind of stunned. He shook his head. "How did I miss that?" he asked.

Stiles wanted to be a smart ass and suggest he'd missed it the same way he'd missed the fact that Ethan was his mate, but he deserved a chance to figure that out for himself. Then again Stiles was pretty sure Ethan and Aiden both knew, so it was only a matter of time before one of them lost patience and told Jackson.

"Are you well enough to sit up?"

"Shaky," Eric mumbled, but she only wobbled a little bit when he helped her to get more comfortable. He sent his spark into her again to check he hadn't missed anything and this time was really surprised by what he found.

"Have you…um…" Stiles really didn't know how to ask the question. "Are you on any medicines?"

"No," Erica said, frowning at him.

"Did you maybe eat or drink anything kinda funky tasting?"

"All the time," Erica said. "Mom's on a health kick."

"Okay," Stiles said, glancing up to see the EMTs pushing through the crowd. "Looks like the EMTs are both female so unless your mom swings both ways I think maybe the embarrassment is over—at least for now."

Erica laughed softly. "Thanks for your help, Batman."

"Anytime, Catwoman," he said, moving out of the paramedic's way.

Halwyn urged Erica's mom toward her daughter and had trouble escaping. For a hellhound the guy was just way too nice. Then again he may not feel so kind when he learned exactly what was going on.

"Hal, can I borrow your phone to ring my Dad, please?"

"Sure," Halwyn said, handing over his phone without a second thought and using the distraction to untangle himself from the woman's octopus grip. Stiles moved far enough away from the crowd surrounding Erica so that he wouldn't be overheard.

"Dad," he said when the call connected. "There's a girl named Erica Reyes who is about to be taken to hospital after a suspected seizure. It's not epilepsy. Her mom has been poisoning her with mistletoe."

"Okay," Dad said, not even questioning how Stiles might know that. "Thanks for the heads up. I'll make sure the right people at the hospital know what to test for and then I'll get a search warrant."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Anytime, kid."

~*~

Halwyn had been awake and reintegrating for a couple years now, but as usual humanity mostly just disappointed him. Noah and Stiles had been the exception. Noah was noble and forthright and a champion for people who couldn't protect themselves. He embodied the very best of humanity. And his son was the same.

Halwyn had known the kid was a spark, but this was only the second time he'd seen it activated.

It was kind of scary to realize Stiles was even stronger this time than he was when he'd used it last. He was actually relieved when Stiles discreetly pressed the off buttons to once again hide his magic. The kid was a literal beacon for supernatural creatures.

"How did you know her name?" Jackson asked curiously.

"I think I met her once, somewhere."

Jackson rolled his eyes at the vague answer but didn't call it a lie so Stiles deliberate evasion worked well enough.

"We need to collect the decorations before we get distracted again," Jackson said, wrapping a hand around Stiles's bicep and pretending to drag him toward the store. Stiles grinned, gave Halwyn a happy _what-can-ya-do?_ shrug and let his stepbrother lead.

~*~

"Research?" Peter asked when he found Chris in the Stilinski-Hale library surrounded by open books.

"Just catching up," Chris said, trying to act casual. He was actually really good at it. If they'd been the virtual strangers they were in this timeline, Peter would not have noticed the evidence of a lie very specific to this man.

"Anything I can help with?"

"What do you know about time travel?" Chris asked, the question almost seeming absent instead of the direct query it actually was.

"Quite a bit, actually."

"You think it's possible?"

"I know it's possible," Peter admitted. He wasn't sure where Chris was going with this, but it somehow felt very important to be honest with him. Noah and Peter had only shared their knowledge with one other person, and that had been partially because Halwyn was a hellhound who'd frozen himself into a state of suspended animation so that he'd be available to help when the Anuk-ite again tried to destroy the world. What Stiles had done with the time travel spell essentially had the same goal.

Save lives. Protect the world.

"You _know_ it's possible?" Chris asked, clearly skeptical.

"Chris," Peter asked, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table, "what's going on? Why are you looking for this?"

"Something is calling to Ally. It wants her to go south."

"La Iglesia," Peter said with a nod. "It's where the Berserkers are waiting for her."

"You know the legend?"

"I do," Peter said, choosing not to elaborate.

"She's twelve years old. I don't want her to have to deal with this."

"Better her than someone else," Peter said, trying to find an argument that would make Chris realize how much worse things could be without actually revealing his knowledge from the old timeline. "Imagine the pain Victoria could have caused if she'd headed south before she went on her killing spree."

"The bone soldiers are said to be undefeatable."

"They're not," Peter said before he could hide his absolute certainty. "Breaking the animal skull fused to their head breaks the magic."

"Where did you read that?" Chris asked, flipping a couple of books to check the covers.

"I watched it happen," Peter admitted.

"You've dealt with La Loba before?"

"Yeah," Peter admitted. "The woman was already an insane killer before she became La Loba. She set off a sequence of events that killed thousands."

Chris had a quick mind and made the connection easily. "That's how you know time travel is possible?"

Peter nodded. "She died the day we reset the timeline."

"Kate?" Chris asked, clearly aware of his sister's human failings.

"Her death..." Uncharacteristically Peter was struggling to find the words he needed. "Have you heard of the butterfly effect?"

Chris nodded. "Killing Kate changed everything." He sat back in his chair and stared into the middle distance unseeingly.

"It did."

"So we go back and try again."

"We can't," Peter admitted, very glad that it was the truth. "The person who did the spell is no longer with us." Well, that was a _version_ of the truth. Twenty-six-year-old Stiles had not come back with them.

"They died?"

Again, Peter felt the need to be completely honest. "They're not here yet."

"Stiles," Chris said, obviously connecting the dots.

And that's when Peter realized there was no way he was getting Chris out of this line of thinking without explaining just how horrific the old timeline had been.

"Okay, I'll tell you everything," he offered, apparently surprising Chris with the honest, direct approach. He was kind of surprising himself too. He usually preferred to evade and redirect rather than answer questions he didn't want to answer. He shrugged. "Just let me check on Amelia and make sure Derek can watch her for the day. And then I'll grab a bottle of scotch and I'll explain every horrific, fucked-up detail you want to know."

"It's ten in the morning," Chris said, frowning at the clock. "Isn't it a little early to start drinking?"

"Believe me, my friend," Peter said, trying to remember where he stashed his last bottle of wolfsbane whiskey, "we're going to need it."

Three hours, half a bottle of scotch, and couple of broken knuckles later Chris admitted that the time line could be much, much worse than twelve-year-old Allison accidentally acquiring her very own minions.

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

Derek's seventeenth birthday party was a wonderful success…

At least it was until a rival pack decided it was also a good day to challenge the Hale alpha for his territory. Jackson pulled Danny away from the confrontation and wondered how the fuck to explain this mess to his clueless human friend.

Yeah, this wasn't going to help Jackson keep his secrets.

"Don't panic," he whispered to Danny. "I promise I will explain everything when it's over."

"You mean the part where you're a pack of werewolves?" Danny asked. "I already know."

Jackson stared at his best friend and had no idea what to say.

Danny grinned and said, "It's Beacon Hills," as if that somehow explained it.

"Fine. Stay here. Stay safe. I need to help my alphas."

Danny nodded.

"Just don't freak out, okay?"

"Not gonna happen," Danny said confidently.

Jackson was a little surprised to realize how much he wanted Danny to be okay with everything.

And if there was ever a test to check the solidity of a friendship, this was very likely it.

~*~

Ennis was just as gruff and stupid as Peter remembered him. Of course, in this time line he hadn't killed his entire pack—and probably wouldn't since Deucalion and Kali had met their rather messy ends at the hands of one truly pissed off druid—so Ennis wasn't juiced up with all that extra power. He did, however, bring enough betas to outnumber the Stilinski-Hale packs by nearly three to one.

The only good news was that he'd been quite prepared to negotiate. Apparently he had an exit strategy for the Stilinski-Hale packs that meant none of them got really hurt.

"Derek," Ennis said in what he probably thought was a friendly tone, "you have a handful of betas, most of them either human or younger than you. There's no way you'd be able to defend this territory from any of the more violent packs in this state. Your choice is simple. You can gather your pack and leave Beacon Hills tonight or accept my challenge and we'll fight to the death."

Derek pretended to think about it like he really was a clueless kid. Peter was so very proud of him.

"I can help him," Stiles whispered into Peter's mind as Derek asked Ennis endless annoying questions and Ennis answered them with a mixture of condescension and arrogance. "I can make Derek unbreakable."

"Good to know," Peter said, glancing toward where his husband had grabbed Stiles and was doing a good job of making it look like he was protecting his eleven-year-old human son, their five-year-old daughter, and several of the other children who'd been at Derek's party. Although, with Noah it was very likely exactly what it seemed. No matter how powerful the kids were, Noah did his best to protect everyone in the pack. "But let's leave that as a last resort. You're a literal beacon to supernatural creatures. They'll notice you the moment you activate your spark."

"Fine," Stiles grumbled. "Jackson is already in his kanima form. Malia is checking the perimeter in her coyote form to make sure we're not dealing with more werewolves than we can see, and the twins have just merged and are waiting for your signal."

"Lydia and Allison?"

"Lydia and Lorraine are playing the scared little humans while protecting Natalie, Danny, and Isaac, and Allison and Chris headed toward the armory the moment Allison smelled trouble."

"Halwyn? Camden?"

"Not sure," Stiles admitted. "I think they may have snuck off for some _alone_ time earlier. There's no way Camden wouldn't rush to protect Isaac if he thought his brother was in danger, so I'm going to assume they're both close and waiting for the signal."

"Okay," Peter said silently to his alpha. "Show time."

Peter moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Derek, deliberately breaking all the protocols as Ennis understood them.

"Derek," Ennis said, shaking his head sadly. "This is exactly what I mean. Your beta should never stand with you as an equal."

"Peter's not my beta," Derek said, apparently happy to play dumb until everyone was in position. It was amazing how far he'd come from the traumatized boy he'd been after the fire. Deaton's bullshit—and subsequent disappearance—had set him back a little, but thanks to his therapist and a whole lot of hard work Derek had grown into his alpha power beautifully. And he'd learned a lesson that Ennis's traditional approach overlooked.

Derek trusted every single member of his and Stiles's packs and led by being one of them.

"How is he not your beta?" Ennis asked, frowning like the concept was beyond him. Yeah, the big guy was never going to be the sharpest tool in the shed.

"I have a different alpha," Peter said, shrugging with overacted casualness. Stiles snickered inside Peter's mind.

"So you have humans and children." Ennis shook his head. "Derek, dying for so little would just be sad."

Derek's mouth curved into that big dumb toothy smile that scared most people who knew him.

"I have humans in my pack," he agreed, "and quite a few children, but I still don't understand how that lessens my ability to defend my territory."

"Surely you don't think your pack will win a fight against mine."

"I don't just think it," Derek said, tilting his head up to where Jackson was poised on the ceiling of the veranda like some terrifying scaly monster out of every person's worst nightmares. "I know it." Ennis and the three betas closest to him hit the ground before they could barely react.

The others startled at how quickly their leaders had been disabled, but when they realized they were surrounded by a giant werewolf hybrid, a werecoyote, a werejaguar, a hunter armed to the teeth, and a beta wolf and his very protective hellhound, they made the very wise decision to back down.

"I'll let you walk away this time," Derek said, smirking at the reminder that Ennis wouldn't be walking any time soon, "but if you ever step foot on my territory again you will get a very different outcome."

"Do you understand?" Peter asked, crouching next to Ennis's paralyzed form, "or has the kanima venom reached your tiny little brain?"

Jackson snickered—and in kanima form that was a terrifying sound—and dropped from the ceiling to pace around the paralyzed werewolves. He wasn't even trying to be threatening, but Ennis's eyes widened and he hurriedly pushed the words "I understand" through his numb lips.

"Good, pup," Derek said in a condescending tone. "Let's hope you remember your lesson." He stepped back and signaled Ennis's pack to come and collect their leaders. They seemed very reluctant.

That just made Peter smirk harder.

~*~

It didn't take long to escort Ennis's pack off Stilinski-Hale lands. Apparently they hadn't been as ready for a fight as they'd thought they were. Jackson enjoyed every moment of it until they returned to the house and he found Danny sitting on the porch swing waiting for him.

He suddenly wished he'd stayed in kanima form, but Peter patted him on the shoulder and walked past him into the house.

"I should have told you," Danny said, giving him a sad smile. "I should have explained that my family has always known the Hales are werewolves."

Jackson shrugged. "I'm not your average werewolf."

"I saw that." Danny grinned, apparently as unafraid of Jackson as the rest of his pack. That felt pretty good actually. "And I'm not your average human," Danny admitted. "My family was once full of very powerful mages. Not so much the last couple generations, but we know enough about the real world."

Jackson nodded. "Are you interested in magic?" he asked, wondering if Stiles and Lydia would be willing to help out.

"Not really," Danny admitted. "I prefer computers, but I have a cousin who is pretty good at it. Given half a chance she'd probably spend more time in your library than Lydia and Stiles." He gave Jackson a crooked smile. "I'm assuming that's what all those old books are for."

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. He'd only read the ones specifically dealing with the kanima—and holy shit he didn't even want to think about the evolved form he could take under certain circumstances.

"Are you mad that I know now?"

"Nah," Jackson said, finally joining his friend on the swing. He bumped their shoulders together. "I hated having to hide that stuff from you."

"Yeah, I sensed that," Danny said, his eyes glinting as he added, "like when you were being a complete douche and pushing me away."

"I really should thank Stiles for intervening," Jackson admitted. "I would have pushed you away to keep you safe."

Danny laughed softly. "Judging by what happened tonight I am far safer right where I am."

"True," Jackson agreed. He loved his kanima form, and he especially loved that it was so useful when it came to protecting the people he loved.

"So learning that you're Peter Hale's son has been good for you?"

"Absolutely," he said, relaxing against the seat and gazing into the star-filled night sky.

Learning who he really was had been the best part of finding his biological father. The rest—his pack, his siblings, his new friends and his mate—were just a really excellent bonus.

~*~

"He did well," Noah said to his husband as they watched Derek celebrate his birthday—and their resounding victory—with the rest of the pack.

"They all did," Peter agreed. "And they'll only grow stronger."

"They will and they'll probably need to." Noah sighed softly. "We still have no idea where Deaton went and we haven't been able to identify the woman Hal spoke to. The clinic is just abandoned, no movement on the bank accounts, no paper trail. I've filed a missing person's report as a 'concerned' longtime acquaintance, but I doubt it's going to shake the man loose from wherever he's hiding."

"No sign of his sister either?"

"As far as I can tell, she never existed. Well not under any of the names we knew her by. Too bad," he added wryly, "that Deucalion isn't around to ask."

"Yeah, terrible news that," Peter said, not even pretending he didn't know how Deucalion and Kali had met their ends. "We'll keep looking. And if he shows up here, we'll be ready."

"I hope you're right."

"I'm always right," Peter said with his usual smug grin.

Noah laughed softly and held his husband close, enjoying the chance to just breathe and be together.

"I'm glad you told Chris," he eventually whispered. "He needed to know."

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "But I should have spoken to you first."

"It's okay," Noah said. "I trust your judgment."

"You haven't always," Peter reminded him, but he was wearing a smile so Noah knew it wasn't a serious complaint. They'd had their ups and downs, like any longterm relationship, but they'd always managed to find their way back to each other.

"I love you," Noah whispered and pressed a lingering kiss to his husband's throat.

"And I love you," Peter said, grinning wickedly. "What do you think our chances are of skipping out of the party early?"

Noah couldn't hold back the laugh when several tiny pack members turned and frowned at Peter's suggestion.

"Right now," he said, through bouts of soft laughter, "I'd say our chances are roughly nil."

"True," Peter agreed with a warm chuckle. "Later."

"Yeah, later."

Epilogue

_Seven years, three months, and six and a half mostly peaceful days later…_

Stiles was pretty sure he didn't go to sleep on the nemeton, but that's definitely where he woke up. He was on his back, stretched out like a starfish, his legs and arms secured by what felt like tree vines. He stared up at the full moon and found himself suddenly questioning all of his life choices.

How did he think sneaking home from college early to surprise everyone without actually telling anyone he was coming would be such a good idea? Why hadn't he joined Lydia and their college friends on their vacation to Hawaii to celebrate their graduation? Why had he agreed to stop using telepathy when Peter had suggested Stiles would enjoy the whole college experience better without it? Why had he never told Derek he loved him?

And why the fuck was there a naked woman standing over him ready to plunge a ceremonial knife into his rapidly beating heart.

_When is a door not a door?_

Yeah, fuck, okay. This wasn't good.

Not fucking good at all.

_Mischief, remember._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeep, don't hurt me. It's just a little teaser... (No that is not me cackling evilly in the background. That's just my cat. Yeah, my cat.)
> 
> Part 4 is already on its way and it will wrap up the series and I might finally be able to reclaim my life. (Well except for the part where I promised to work Erica and Boyd back into the story line somehow... Yeah the TBR pile is going to topple over and bury me one day soon. Thank the goddess for ebooks!)
> 
> Anyway, you may have noticed the fast forward to the epilogue skipped over the Dread Doctors and a couple of other story lines. Apologies to anyone who was looking forward to reading them but my solutions heavily involved Halwyn, Camden, and three of Allison's berserkers. None of them were in canon enough to be well developed so rather than write a bunch of stories that mostly included OC-ish characters I've skipped over them and gone straight onto the Sterek part of the series. 
> 
> Stiles is finally 18 and Derek is 24 and of course nothing is going to go quite to plan. Is anyone surprised?


End file.
